Reflections in the Water
by Cattyline
Summary: The lake. So smooth and serene, it is always the same, just like him. But when she arrives and churns the waters, he finds that he cannot avoid being swept up in her storm.


**A/N: When I wrote this story, I imagined it as a certain couple, but I've left it ambiguous enough that it could be practically any couple of your choosing. So, picture your favorite Harry Potter couple (or if you want to leave the Harry Potter universe altogether, that's fine too) and see if they fit the story. With the couple I have in mind, nothing is OOC until perhaps the very end. The end gets a little AU as well, but again, that's up to your own interpretation.**

**Also, I hope any music fans might get the reference at the end...**

**Alright, enough disclaimers for now (except the one where I say the characters aren't mine...well, the characters I was thinking about aren't mine...I suppose these characters could be mine if they remained nameless...anyway, I'll stop talking). Enjoy!**

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><p>"<em>You're wrong."<em>

_The words reverberated in the hollow silence._

_He turned slowly. "What?"_

"_You're wrong." She sauntered up to him, extending her slender arms to touch the soft cotton of his shirt and grasp his bony shoulders._

_He stared ahead for a moment before glancing at her upturned face inches from his…_

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><p><em>O, how this spring resembleth the uncertain glory of an April day!<em>

The sun glints off the rolling lake,

A young girl of about 6 or 7 years old skips around the lake, the muffled sound of her rough feet beating against the soft folded dirt barely audible over the _swoosh swoosh_ of the lake lazily greeting the shore. How are you today, it asks the delicate blades of grass and the daisies peeking through the green before sweeping over them as it continues on its journey.

Behind her appears a young boy. His pale skin in stark contrast to both his dark hair and her golden complexion. He gazes as her long ginger hair is tossed behind her by the playful breeze. She is barefoot.

"Hello."

She does not hear, too immersed in the sounds of the nature surrounding. He shifts his feet uneasily, unsure whether to call out again or not, weighing the chances of her simply not hearing him against those of her hearing but ignoring him. He wants her to talk to him. He resolves to try again. His mouth opens wide to allow a greater depth of sound to pass through:

"Hello."

She pauses. She turns towards him. Her expression a mixture of curiosity, surprise, and excitement at the discovery of someone new.

"Hello. Would you like to play?"

He nods. She smiles brightly, flits up to him, and intertwines her warm hand with his cold one.

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><p><em>Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?<em>

The lake, smooth and placid, winks at the glaring sun, keeping its secrets below the surface.

The girl sits by the shore, her smooth face displaying her youth of ten years. She plucks two blades of grass and attempts to weave them together. The boy lies on his side, watching her.

"Let's play a game."

Her sudden request startles him out of his reverie. His piercing grey eyes shift from her fluttering hands to meet her gaze, intensely fixated on him, demanding a response.

"Alright. What would you like to play?"

She contemplates for a moment before an ardent grin illuminates her face. She points up.

"The trees."

Before he has a chance to wonder, she hops to her feet, forcefully pulling him up with her. She skitters over to the nearest tree, a towering sycamore whose vibrant green leaves cast dancing shadows onto the lake's glassy surface.

She lithely snatches the lowest branch and springs into the depths of the tree above. He tries to follow; he wants to please her, to show her that he is a worthy player to have in her game of life.

As she climbs up and up, grasping the rough bark with her palms as if it felt no different from the soft earth, he reaches for her ankle. She turns.

"No. Not the trees."

She cocks her head, her brow furrowed in confusion, but, unable to decipher his expression, releases the branch and lands nimbly on the ground. He leads her to the lake's edge and wordlessly points at its reflective surface.

"Jump."

His voice comes out as a whisper, steady, commanding, yet not completely certain. He stares at her, wills her to follow, to find his world deserving of her presence.

He wants her to stay.

She jumps.

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><p><em>The teeming Autumn big with rich increase.<em>

The lake is deceptively calm. On its surface float colors, rich and warm from the trees overlooking. Leaves discarded by their former caretakers, they drift along the bank, cut from their life sources. The cool ground is silent, the browning grass undisturbed.

Beneath the peaceful veil, the expanse of the lake is churning. The girl of fourteen laughingly swims in circles, twirling and twirling through the water as though she were weightless. The boy observes as the trail of deep red hair wraps around her body and his expression lightens. Still spinning, she calls out to him, the words bubbling out.

"Let's race."

Without hesitation, he swims to her side; anything to maintain the equilibrium of his life.

"Okay."

She stands, her hair settling down about her. His tone, cool in its confidence, ignites a daring gleam in her eye.

They dart off, their bodies slicing through the water. All around them flash images of their underwater abode, nymphs frolicking in the reeds, sprites skimming across the sandy floor. Faster still they fly, the visions pass by them as blurs. Kelp or guppy, shark or seahorse, none is discernible. Through tunnels, past mountains, off the edge of the world they swim and back again. Never tiring, never ceasing.

Until she stops. He flashes ahead of her, unable to halt himself in time. Slowing down, he pivots, searching for the telltale glow of amber atop her head. Spotting it, he rapidly swims toward it, his guiding beacon. Upon reaching her, he discovers an awed expression on her face. Confused, he stretches his hand towards her. He flinches as her arm bolts from her side, expecting her to strike him, but instead, she grasps his hand tightly.

"Look down."

He obeys. Below is a vast stretch of endless blue mixed with white, wisps of grey sprinkled throughout. A dark V appears, shadowing the source of light far below. As it moves across the space, it undulates in a flowing current. He stares at the birds flying into the distance and knows what this breadth of blue is.

The sky.

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><p><em>Winter tames man, woman, and beast.<em>

Solid and dense, the surface of the lake reflects the rays of the winter sun: blinding, harsh, unforgiving. The girl, now 17, sits in the snow underneath the sycamore tree, hugging her knees to her chest. The boy views her with undisguised loathing.

"I have to leave."

He flinches at her words, each syllable piercing his ears like the cacophonous crack of the ice covering the lake.

"Why?"

She is taken aback by the steadiness of his voice, betraying none of the turbulent emotions he holds within, but replies anyway, matching his same, flat tone.

"You know why."

He leaps to his feet, sending a flurry of snow about him. He glares at her, covered in white, as the glistening particles melt from the fire radiating in her hair. He whirls around and strides to the edge of the frosted lake, unable to continue looking at her. Yes. He does know why. He knows that there is a something more outside this lake, outside this suppressing barrier of trees separating their world from the one of reality. He had caught a glimpse of it that day, four years before, when he had foolishly allowed her to stop at the point where the real world converged with their own. She had spent hours gazing at the reflection of a different sky, a different earth, a different realm before he could tear her away. As winter set in, he fervently hoped that the freezing of the lake would deter her from her spirited suggestions of leaving. Of changing. Of taking away the one thing that made him perfectly content with his life.

"You'll never come back."

She gazes at him, staunchly standing with his back stiffened to her.

"You're wrong."

The words reverberate in the hollow silence.

He turns slowly. "What?"

"You're wrong." She saunters up to him, extending her slender arms to touch the soft cotton of his shirt and grasping his bony shoulders.

He stares ahead for a moment before glancing at her upturned face but inches from his. He instinctively clasps her soft warm hand, but she withdraws it, leaving his hand empty.

"I will return. You'll see."

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><p>The final triplets fade. The piece ends with arms stretched to both ends of the piano, an octave A flat on one end and D flat on the other. Held for eleven counts. An instance of silence descends on the concert hall before erupting into tumultuous applause.<p>

The performer stands up and bows, her face deceptively stiff despite her emotive playing. Her auburn hair cascades down her thin frame as she reseats herself. The audience resolves into respectful silence, waiting with bated breath for the first note. But she doesn't notice. She has already left the blazingly lit stage, left the expecting audience of suits and ball gowns, left the smooth black and white keys, so starkly contrasted. She returns to the lake for one last dance.

_Reflets dans l'eau_


End file.
